


Our Glitter-Covered Romance

by nuclearxsquid



Category: Bandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-30
Updated: 2011-05-30
Packaged: 2017-10-19 22:32:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/205942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuclearxsquid/pseuds/nuclearxsquid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“And how did you come to the conclusion that he has a crush in the first place?!”</p><p>“A stab in the dark,” William said nonchalantly, waving a careless hand. “I mean, he was chiseling the sparkles off of your case, what else could that possibly mean?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Glitter-Covered Romance

**Author's Note:**

> I have many thanks to everyone who helped me by letting me rant to them about my plot, characterization, and Spencer Smith. In particular [info]ashling_lily (who was a LIFE-SAVER) for the title and not letting me quit even when I had given up, [info]arithilim for a very detailed lecture on everything Spencer Smith, and and GIANT cupcake to my beta, [info]xaritomene , who cleaned it up and actually made Ryan sound like himself! \o/ Seriously, this fic would not have happened without you guys!

Spencer’s eyes slid to his watch, which it felt like he wore for the sole purpose of watching the minutes tick by. Eighteen minutes left of their last day of band camp. He loved music and marching band, but he wouldn’t miss the standing around and insufferable heat that accompanied band camp: sweat was trickling slowly down his back and his arms shook from staying locked at attention for so long. But Spencer could outlast Patrick. He wouldn’t move a single inch. Patrick’s eagle eyes would catch him and then he’d be sent running laps.

Patrick nodded toward the trumpet line, which was made up of three obnoxiously tall seniors and Brendon. The whole trumpet section was pretty odd. There was no actual section leader – Spencer had heard something about the seniors constantly challenging each other for first chair, so the section leader was constantly switching between them. Spencer wasn’t entirely sure how Brendon survived amongst the tall people, but he suspected Brendon made up for the height difference through sheer force of personality.

The seniors seemed to all move at once, pulling cans out of their pockets and shaking them, leaving the rest of the band wondering why Patrick wasn’t assigning them to run laps until they _died_. They soon found out, after Gerard became the first victim of the trumpet section’s cans of silly string. As one, the seniors attacked the underclassmen, spraying them mercilessly while their victims were trapped at attention on pain of laps.

They made a mess. Spencer had been pretty lucky, considering he could see Jon just out of the corner of his eye. Jon had acquired quite a large beard of pink silly string. It was kind of awesome, actually. A beard to be jealous of.

The relentless sun beating down on Spencer’s face was suddenly blocked by the appearance of Tyson, one of the senior trumpet players. Unfortunately for Spencer, the beaming grin on Tyson’s face was enough to equal that of the sun. With horror, Spencer realized that Tyson wasn’t actually holding a can of silly string like everyone else. Instead, he was wielding a large (half empty) jar of silver glitter.

Tyson had spent the week covered in the stuff himself, but Spencer hadn’t actually believed that Tyson would use it on other people. And Spencer did _not_ want that stuff anywhere near him, it didn’t come out of _anything._

But he also didn’t want to run. So like a good newbie, he didn’t move, and sure enough, a tidal wave of glitter washed over him as Tyson dumped the entire contents of the jar on Spencer’s head.

The sweat covering Spencer caused the glitter to cling to him like a second skin. He was honestly lucky none had gone in his eyes, but it was his poor saxophone he was worried for. If Ritter got glitter into the key pads, he was a dead man.

**

Once released from attention, Spencer looked around for Tyson, intent on strangling the boy with his neck strap, but the glittered trumpet player was nowhere to be found, and Spencer kept being distracted by Tyson’s victims, thinking they were Tyson himself.

Unfortunately, Ryan also got in the way of hunting Tyson down by taking one look at Spencer and grinning. “Thanks. This is actually _never_ going to come off,” Spencer said sourly, glaring at his best friend and scratching at his neck – which kind of hurt, actually. His glare switched from Ryan to the offending sparkles now stuck to his fingertips.

Once Ryan had recovered from his momentary lapse into facial expressions, he said, “You’re welcome, Edward,” and refused to stop grinning for another half-hour. Spencer wanted to _strangle_ him.

\---

While Spencer was not normally a meek person, the senior trumpet players were like the mafia of their band program, and they had a knack for getting the way, whether by charm or locking unsuspecting freshmen in unfortunate places. (Gabe was probably the worst, either hitting outrageously on freshmen or leaving them locked in closets or stuck in trash cans, but none of the others were much better.) So he had plenty of reason to feel uneasy as he sneaked into the upper brass storage closet, armed only with a business-like metal nail file that he had borrowed from Greta. Tyson’s trumpet case was easy enough to find, since it was the only sparkly case in the entire room, covered in glitter, sequins, and plastic jewels that Spencer’s sisters would not have been ashamed to own.

Not for long.

Spencer set to work, scraping at the sides of the case, destroying the ridiculous decorations. He felt momentarily bad, but when he remembered that the half of the band not calling him “freshman” had started calling him “Edward” (Spencer could see Ryan’s hand in that), he lost all compassion he might have felt for Tyson’s glittery fetish and got straight back to work.

With every scrape, Spencer flinched a little, worrying that the sound would alert someone in the band room, particularly one of the dreaded seniors. He was wearing his favorite shoes, the last place he wanted them to go was a trash can. And then, the unthinkable happened:

“Revenge works much better when you don’t get caught,” a smooth voice called out from the doorway. Spencer jumped, nail file clattering to the floor, unable to think of anything other than the most lame excuses as he turned round.

William Beckett leaned against the door-frame, hips jutting out to the side, putting every girl within a six mile radius to shame.

“While it’s adorable you’re resorting to pigtail-pulling, did it ever occur to you to just tell him that you like him?” Spencer looked at William like he had grown a second head. “I guess it hasn’t. Seriously, just try _talking_ to him. But, you know, without the – defacement of property. That tends to send out mixed signals.”

Spencer spluttered for a second, then managed to choke out, “But I _don’t_ like him!”

“Uh-huh,” Bill nodded, disbelief crammed in every syllable. “Okay, well, I’ll give you and your romantic confusions a free pass this time, Smith, but if I catch you in here again – and if you do anything to _my_ trumpet case – I will have Gabe shove you in a locker so fast your pretty little head will spin. Alrighty?”

“Fine,” Spencer managed, and watched in disbelief as Bill actually just turned and left. He listened for a couple of seconds, but no one else seemed to be coming... but unwilling to push his luck any further, he slapped a sticker on Tyson’s case and ran for it.

Now that his mission was definitely accomplished, he and his favorite shoes had better, safer places to be.

\---

The hallways were constantly unbearably crowded and loud. People just loved to wander down them at a glacial pace, always right in Spencer’s way, and in his haste to pass a couple of particularly slow classmates, Spencer didn’t even register Tyson’s presence until he was falling backwards into the lockers, his backpack cushioning the metal doors.

Tyson’s arms came up on either side of Spencer’s shoulder’s, trapping him in place. Shivers shot down Spencer’s spine and he pushed away other thoughts of what Tyson could be doing to him while standing so close.

“You ruined my trumpet case,” Tyson said, blue eyes looking uncomfortably similar to a puppy’s.

Spencer shifted uncomfortably. “You deserved it!” he defended himself. “For pouring that crap all over me.” Oh God, he could _smell_ Tyson’s shitty teenage-boy cologne, and even _that_ didn’t do anything to reduce the amount of brain waves that were shorting out due to his close proximity. (And it was entirely likely that Beckett had actually had a point about the whole ‘liking’ thing. Damn him.) “That - um - stupid glitter got into my saxophone.” His thoughts were slowly spinning out of control, leaving the rational part of his brain hurting.

Tyson rolled his eyes. “You left a frowning sticker on my case!” He countered with a pout, which made Spencer smirk. Suddenly, Tyson leaned in close to whisper, “You have a very dark soul.”

Spencer managed to laugh, “Sure,” he said.

“I mean, it’s not even a glittery sticker, Spencer Smith! Why do you hate me so?!” Tyson exclaimed dramatically.

“A _glittery_ sticker would entirely defeat the purpose,” Spencer said, his voice sounding more steady than he felt.

Tyson seemed to consider this, then smirked. Spencer opened his mouth to ask Tyson what he was smirking about, but Tyson was already gone, head a good half-foot above everyone else’s as he moved down the hallway.

The bell rang a few seconds later and Spencer cursed, turning on his heel and sprinting towards his math class, hoping that his teacher wouldn’t assign him a detention.

\---

“Are you serious?” William asked, waving his hands incredulously at the scene he just walked in on.

Tyson blinked innocently up at him, glue bottle paused in the air. “Serious about what, William dearest?”

William just rolled his eyes, crossed his arms, and leaned against the lockers, hip cocked. “Really? _Really_?!”

Tyson shrugged, grinning up at William.

William huffed, “I’d expect this behavior from Spencer, but you? Seriously, Ty, grow a pair and just ask him out. This is getting ridiculous.”

Tyson set down his glue and stood up, fisting his hands in his pockets. The upbeat expression had slid off of his face to reveal some insecurity he was really feeling. “I like him, I really do.....” Tyson started.

“But?” William prompted, already knowing the answer.

“I’m really old for him. I mean, he’s a freshman, don’t you think that’s kind of creepy? For him, at least?” Tyson asked, he leaned against a clean locker, eyes drooping.

“When I was a freshman, Travie was a senior, so no, I don’t think that’s creepy.” William pointed out.

“Yeah, but you were also kind of a slut when we were freshmen,” Tyson smirked at William, not able to stop himself.

“Hey! I was not! Just because Pete spread those slanderous lies... he spread lies about _everyone,_ even you, so don’t give me that shit.” William punctuated his speech by poking Tyson in the chest. “I’ll have you know, Travie and I didn’t have sex until I was legal.”

“But you did everything short of sex, right?” Tyson smirked.

“This conversation is _not_ about me!” William declared, pretending to be scandalized and confirming exactly what Tyson had accused him of. “It is about you and the freshman with whom you are currently infatuated.” Tyson buried his face in his hands. “Seriously,” William pressed on, “your children would be adorable. They would have your smashing good looks and Spencer’s adorableness.... if I get the two of you together, you owe me your firstborn.”

“What?! No!” Tyson exclaimed, pulling his head up to glare at William.

“Okay, second-born, then,” William agreed immediately.

“No! That’s not what I meant!” He imitated William by poking him in the chest. “Just – don’t interfere, alright? I need to be absolutely certain that it is actually what he wants.”

William scoffed, “Of course it’s what he wants. You should have seen his face when I told him that he should just talk to you and tell you about his crush on you. Cherry-red.”

“And how did you come to the conclusion that he has a crush in the first place?!”

“A stab in the dark,” William said nonchalantly, waving a careless hand. “I mean, he was chiseling the sparkles off of your case, what else could that possibly mean?”

“Wait a second,” Tyson said, ignoring William’s pseudo-psychology, “you _saw_ him destroying my beautiful case and you didn’t stop him?! I feel so betrayed! Is our friendship meaningless?! Does seven years of helping me with math homework mean nothing to you?! You have a cold heart, William Beckett.”

“There, there,” William patted Tyson in the shoulder. “Betrayal comes to us all in the end. I’m just preparing you for the real world. After all, that’s what high school is all about!”

\---

If Spencer had thought that his locker was painted regulation black, that illusion was completely destroyed within minutes of arriving in school the next day. “It looks kind of like Edward Cullen ate a rainbow and then threw up all over your locker,” Ryan said thoughtfully.

“Or like someone took all of Brendon’s cosmetics and pelted your locker with them,” Jon added.

“Hey!” Brendon objected, though he really couldn’t argue with it.

Spencer ignored his three best friends in favor of staring at his locker in speechless horror. The entire thing was covered in pink and purple _glittery_ heart stickers. And if that weren’t enough, little clay cupcakes, hearts, kitten, and puppy faces were plastered all over it as well. And to top it off, glittery ribbon had been woven through the slots at the top and bottom of the locker door.

“I swear, if the school makes me pay for this, I’ll...” Spencer trailed off.

“Jump Tyson?” Ryan offered innocently.

“Yes!”

“You’ll only get detention for PDA on top of the fine for the locker.” Ryan’s expression remained deadpan, but his habitual monotone was tinged with amusement.

Spencer growled, “You know what I meant.”

“That you’d rather he press you up against your redecorated locker and have his wicked way with you?” Ryan asked interestedly.

“I have the worst friends ever.”

Ryan half-laughed but grabbed Spencer’s elbow to swing him around to face him completely, eyes serious. “I really think he does like you, Spence. What other senior would spend that much time on your locker? Any other senior would have thrown you in a trash can and forgotten about you. Even if you did deface their instrument case.” Spencer shifted uneasily, which Ryan took as a cue to press on. “I really think he likes you, Spence, and you’ve gone all – all _starry-eyed_ for him – don’t give me that face, I’m immune - so why don’t you give it a chance? Talk to him, flirt. The worst thing he can do is say no.”

Spencer still looked uncertain, there were way worse things than a no. Like eternal humiliation, for one. Instead of voicing those concerns, he pushed them to the back of his mind and grinned at Ryan. “Alright, I’ll give him a - dude, where did Brendon and Jon go?”

Ryan glanced around and sucked in a breath. “To class, I guess. Which would make sense, since we have... less than a minute. Karchek will kill us if we’re late again!”

They took off down the hallway, skidding into the classroom just as the final bell rang.

\---

Walking out to the parking lot for marching band practice, Spencer acted a lot more confident than he actually felt. He marched up to Tyson and declared, “You are a very mean guy, Tyson Ritter.”

Tyson laughed, eyes lighting up when he turned and saw Spencer. “I’m beautifying your dull, glitter-hating soul, Spencer!” He flung his arms wide, nearly hitting Gabe in the face with his trumpet. “You should thank me,” he added matter-of-factly.

Spencer crossed his arms and cocked his hips. “Do you realize how long it’s going to take me to get all of that off?!”

Tyson mimicked Spencer’s pose, face beaming. “Longer then it took for you to destroy the glory of my trumpet case?”

Spencer would usually have been pissed by then, but the smile lighting up Tyson’s face threatened to break through even Spencer’s disapproving frown.

Tyson took a step closer, and something flashed, completely distracting Spencer from his original goal. By something shiny, of all cliches. “Your shoes!” Spencer blurted. They practically _shimmered_ in the afternoon light.

If possible, Tyson’s grin got bigger. “Yes, they’re rather dazzling, aren’t they?” He raised the toe of one red-glittered shoe and tilted it side to side to admire it.

Spencer chuckled and was about to respond, but Patrick called them to attention and sent them to the first set of the opener.

\---

Spencer left the short woodwind group meeting in search of Tyson, who seemed to have gone back to the band room. He grabbed his water bottle and fell into step with Sisky Business who was struggling to juggle his trombone and a triangle while pulling the chimes behind him. “Need any help?” Spencer asked.

Sisky shook his head. “No, it’s all good. I’m carrying these for the Butcher.” Apparently, this was supposed to reveal all. Spencer glanced over at the senior pit captain who was wandering towards the band room, naked except for a pair of shorts, flip-flops, and a straw hat. He shot Sisky a questioning look, and Sisky grinned. “I lost a bet with the Butcher, so I have to cart pit equipment back to the band room for him.”

“Ah,” Spencer nodded, catching the Butcher’s sly smirk.

By then they had reached the cool confines of the band room, and Spencer didn’t bother looking for Tyson yet, figuring it would be better to pack up his saxophone and then find Tyson. And, as it turned out, when he stepped out of the woodwind storage room, he spotted Tyson immediately. Tyson was on the back of another senior, a sousaphone player Spencer thought, who seemed rather unstable. “I’m light, Nick! Don’t be a weakling!” Tyson crowed, waving his arms about and making it harder for Nick to hold him.

“Hurry up and leave,” Pete yelled, walking out of the band office. “I want to go home!” He was an old student that returned after graduating to be employed by the marching band as a percussion instructor, so he felt the need to boss everyone around as though he were the director. “And get off your boyfriend, Ritter! No one wants your PDA here!”

Nick promptly dropped Tyson and sat down calmly at his seat to pack away his music.

“Ow, Nicky, that hurt!” Tyson crawled into Nick’s lap, limbs splaying everywhere.

“I want to go home,” Nick said simply. “Go find your freshman.”

Tyson sighed, but stood up and looked round for Spencer – but he was gone.

\---

Tyson sat at the lunch table, staring morosely down at the table. William set his tray down across from Tyson and Nick. “What’s wrong, my glitter bug?” Tyson only sighed and put his head on his arms, looking hopefully at the cookie on William’s tray.

“Is this about Spencer?” William asked gently.

Tyson nodded.

“Seriously, why aren’t you two going out yet? You could share your disturbing foot fetish together!” William said, which at least served to make Tyson perk up in annoyance.

“Oh my God, William, I have told you, stop making fun of my love of a well-turned heel or I’ll... I’ll tell Gabe about you and Travie!” Tyson said as Gabe slid into the seat next to William.

“Oh please, don’t be so daft. Gabe _loves_ what I do with Travie. In fact, he joins in!” William declared, and Gabe’s face spread into a grin.

“Would you like to see the pictures?” He offered with a cursory leer.

“Um – no, no, I’m good. Thanks, though,” Tyson said, just a little nervously.

“We shot a video last weekend,” William added. He actually sounded _proud_.

“We’ve gotten a lot of followers on Tumblr because of it!” Gabe pressed on, leaning across the table at Tyson. He pulled out his phone and flicked to a picture, shoving it in Tyson’s face.

Tyson cringed and hid behind his arms. “You’ll burn my retinas! Get that phone away from me or I’ll tell my mother you’re destroying my virtue.”

Gabe and William snorted and shared a look, making Tyson pout.

“So what is up with you and the freshman?” Gabe asked, having been expressly forbidden by Tyson to call Spencer “Edward.”

Tyson sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know. All of a sudden he just stopped talking to me. And looking at me. We used to have fantastic eye-sex in the hallway after fifth period, and now he just stares at the floor. I don’t know what changed.”

William looked concerned and opened his mouth to say something when the little Ross kid appeared next to him, practically vibrating with what Tyson assumed was repressed rage. It was hard to tell with Ross.

“You are such an _asshole_ , Ritter,” he said tightly.

Tyson just blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“You led Spencer on!” Ryan snapped, which was about as emotive as Tyson had ever heard him.

Unnerved by the thoughts of what dizzying heights of emotion Ross might scale next, Tyson threw his hands up in surrender. "I didn't lead him anywhere! Or not anywhere I wasn't prepared to go myself!"

"...you take words too literally." Ryan's tone was all the more frightening for being, once again, completely monotone. "And you were still a jerk. If you're his boyfriend," pointing at Nick, "You don't flirt with the freshmen just because you're pretty and you can."

“Boyfriend?” Tyson asked, still confused. He looked at Nick, who shrugged.

“Pete said so,” Ryan put his hands on his hips.

William set down his plastic fork and shook his head. “Pete likes to fuck around with people and spread slanderous lies about everyone.”

“When did Pete say that Nick was my boyfriend?” Tyson asked, torn between killing Pete and smacking Nick who was laughing like a hyena.

“On Tuesday after practice. You were all over him.” Ryan said, staring at Tyson evenly.

“Oh,” Tyson said, and then his face dawned in comprehension. “Ohhhhh. Nick isn’t my boyfriend. He’s my best friend.”

“And,” Nick pointed out, “He climbs all over me because that’s who he is. Ty’s concept of personal space doesn’t exist. It would be weird to have it any differently. Smith’s just gonna have to get used to Ty not being able to keep his hands to himself. With _anyone_.”

Ryan paused, and anyone else might have frowned in confusion. As it was, his left eyebrow twitched with sudden, dawning realisation. “Oh. Um, sorry for calling you an ass, then, I guess. But you still hurt my best friend. Make it right.”

Tyson laughed, “Don’t worry, I will.”

Tyson followed Ryan’s path across the cafeteria, practically standing up to watch Ryan speaking earnestly to an apparently-upset Spencer. There wasn’t the same brightening of Spencer’s face that there was on Ryan’s, and Spencer just put his ear buds in and went back to eating, ignoring his best friend’s pleas.

Tyson sank back down into his chair as fast as his heart sank. William patted his head. “There, there.”

Gabe leered again. “Maybe if we showed him the video Thrilliam and I shot last weekend, you could take advantage of his inevitable, uncontrollable passion?” Tyson gave him a Look. “Or moping works, I guess. Hey, where are you going?”

“To win back a bitchy saxophonist, where _else_ would I be going?”

\---

Tyson spotted Spencer at his locker and crowded in on his space until Spencer was forced to acknowledge him. “What do you want?” Spencer asked sharply, all traces of humor gone from his voice. Honestly, at this point, he was just confused, torn between believing his best friend or the evidence of his own two eyes.

“Nick isn’t my boyfriend,” was the first thing out of Tyson’s mouth. Spencer shrugged and shoved a textbook into his backpack. “Really, he’s not. Because I like someone else.” Tyson’s voice was low and earnest, begging Spencer to forgive him for something he hadn’t even meant to do. Spencer glanced sharply at Tyson and turned back to his locker. He reached for a notebook, but his body was being pulled away, pressed against the locker next to his. “I like you,” Tyson breathed, and moved in.

The kiss started chaste at first, but goodness knows Tyson Ritter and chaste was an oxymoron. Spencer gasped in surprise, his resolve crumbling. Tyson’s lips began to move against Spencer’s, deepening the kiss and making Spencer melt.

They both came up for air when a very disgruntled Mike Carden cleared his throat obnoxiously, motioning at his locker. Tyson beamed and pulled Spencer away, who flushed and tried to look apologetic.

“Meet me in the stadium after school,” Tyson breathed in Spencer’s ear, and then he was off, leaving Spencer to run to his class.


End file.
